


Getting It Right

by Luthien



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode Tag, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-30
Updated: 2008-08-30
Packaged: 2017-10-05 23:41:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthien/pseuds/Luthien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everybody's got a date on Saturday night. Episode tag for 5x06 'the Shrine'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting It Right

"So," Rodney says, and takes a swig of his beer.

"So," John echoes, and looks out across the choppy little waves. The wind is cool off the water against his face. There wasn't any wind the last time they were out here on the pier at night. It had been perfectly still. No wind, no waves. Just the two of them and the stars and the moons, and a stillness that felt like the moment could go on for ever while everything beyond them stopped in place.

"Beer okay?" Rodney asks.

Of course, it hadn't stopped. The universe had continued moving along its relentless path, like always.

"Yeah, fine," John replies.

"I know it's not your usual, but I thought maybe we could try something different, just for once."

"The beer's fine, Rodney," John says, not quite patiently.

"I mean, I know you like what you like, but it doesn't hurt to take a step up into the world of bottled beer occasionally."

"_Rodney_."

Rodney takes a long, theatrical pull on his beer, and makes a loud smacking sound as he pulls the bottle away from his lips.

"So this is what you drink in Canada, huh?" John says.

"Canadian? God, no. Did you even look at the label?"

John holds the bottle up so the label catches the moonlight, and squints at it. "Bud... something. Sounds like my sort of beer."

"It's not your sort of beer at all. It's Czech."

"So you got it from Zelenka?"

"Nope." Rodney pulls himself up straight, looking terribly pleased with himself. "I beat him to it. He's no doubt off wherever it is he goes on Saturday nights right now, still gnashing his teeth."

John raises his bottle in a silent toast and takes another drink.

"Saturday night," Rodney says after a moment.

"Yeah," John says.

"And we're out here together."

"Yeah," John says again, a touch more warily this time.

"While everyone else is... not out here."

"Yeah, no one here but us," John agrees, wondering where exactly the point might be and how long it will take Rodney to get to it.

"Everyone seems to be busy tonight. Zelenka's having dinner with Hartley, from marine biology. He was planning to prepare some sort of ghastly but authentic Czech meal - until I persuaded Mares to part with the beer for the price she and Zelenka had agreed on, that is." Rodney pauses, and sips his beer.

"And that was enough to get her to sell the beer to you instead of him," John says dubiously. "What did you do? Ask really, really nicely?"

Rodney waves a hand, swallows, and puts his beer down by his side. "_Plus_," he adds, and points an admonishing finger at John. John can see the gleam in his eyes even in this light. "Plus she gets to be rostered off-call every Friday night - barring life-threatening crisis, of course, which does, admittedly, have a somewhat higher rate of occurrence on Friday nights than any other time of the week - for the next two months."

John raises an eyebrow. "They have a word for that in most places, you know."

"That's why he's so pissed," Rodney says gleefully.

"That, and he knows what he's missing out on," John says, and drains the rest of his Budvar. He's always had a liking for it, when he can get hold of it. "The Budejovicky Budvar brewery has always produced a decent drop," he adds innocently.

"Yeah. It pays to be the boss some- Hey!" Rodney turns an accusing glare on him. "Oh, very funny, Colonel. Haha."

John grins, and toasts him again with the empty bottle.

"Asshole," Rodney says, but without heat.

John grabs another beer and they sit there in companionable silence for a while.

"So Teyla's gone to the Athosian settlement tonight?" Rodney says suddenly.

"Yeah." John snorts. "She took Woolsey with her."

"She did?" Rodney turns to look at John properly. "Why?"

"Didn't you get an e-mail about this?" John wonders.

"I got an e-mail saying that our glorious leader would be off-base until tomorrow and that in the interim Colonel Sheppard would be acting in the position, and to refer all command issues to him. It didn't say anything about visiting the Athosians, as you well know."

"And you weren't the least little bit curious about where he was going?"

"I had more important things to worry about," Rodney says.

"Funny, I don't remember any life-threatening catastrophes in the last day or so."

"_Everything_ I do is more important than keeping track of the movements of anyone not specifically engaged in defending me from harm."

John pretends to consider this for a moment. "So you don't want to know why Teyla took him with her?" he asks.

"Spill," Rodney says at once.

"Teyla thought it would be nice if Mr Woolsey had the chance to get to know a nice, older Athosian lady of her acquaintance." John sets down his beer for a moment so he can put the last bit in air quotes.

"Woolsey's on a blind date that Teyla set up for him?" Rodney says incredulously.

"Kinda looks that way," John admits, scratching the back of his neck. "Only he doesn't know it's a date. He thinks it's a high level mission. Before he went, he made sure he was armed. In case of diplomatic emergency," he adds in response to Rodney's wide-eyed look.

"I look forward to reading that mission report," Rodney says, shaking his head.

"I'm sure Lorne will provide Mr Woolsey with all the standard phrases to cover that sort of situation."

"Lorne went too?" Rodney asks.

John nods. "And a couple of marines as escort."

"That's it?"

"Yes, Rodney, that's it. I thought that was enough to look after him properly, even for such a serious mission," John says, with an eyeroll.

"Huh," Rodney says.

"What now?"

"I expected you to say that Ronon had gone with them, too."

"Ronon wasn't available." John sips at his beer, and runs a finger along the smooth surface of the bottle as he brings it down to his lap again. It's cool and wet with condensation and the edge of the label is coming away from the glass. He starts to worry at it with his thumbnail.

There's an annoyed huff from Rodney's direction. "Are you going to tell me why he couldn't go, or are you possibly just trying to start a game of twenty questions by stealth?"

"Animal, vegetable or mineral?" John says, then ducks to avoid the bottle top Rodney throws at him. It skitters along the pier and comes to a precarious stop on its side right at the very edge. It stays there for a second, glinting as its silvery surface catches the lights from the city, and then it falls. There's a tinkle as it hits the side of the pier on the way down, then nothing.

"Seriously, where is he?" Rodney asks, long seconds later.

John shrugs. "It's no big secret. He's gone to the markets on Arandis with-" He pulls the bottle to his lips, swift and jerky, trying to swallow the last word along with the beer, hoping that somehow Rodney didn't notice it.

It's a forlorn hope. Of course it is.

"With Jennifer," Rodney says for him.

"I'm sure they would have invited us to go with them, if they'd thought we wanted to go," John says, and winces inwardly as he hears the placating note in his voice. He doesn't even sound convincing to himself.

"No, they wouldn't. They want to spend some time by themselves."

"Rodney-"

"It's not surprising. That's what people do when they're dating. They have dates. Alone. Together." Rodney's voice is level, but his hand clenches as he says the last few words.

John can't argue with that, so he doesn't try. "Have another beer," he says instead.

Rodney takes the beer, but he doesn't open it. He sets it down beside him and looks out across the water, apparently lost in thought. John looks out at the water, too. He lets his feet swing back and forth, heels drumming a beat against the side of the pier as the waves shush-shush below.

"I told Jennifer I loved her," Rodney says abruptly.

John goes still. "Don't forget your beer," he says, and reaches for the bottle to open it, keeping his eyes fixed on what he's doing, carefully focusing on every little detail of the task, as he flips the top off, tosses it over his shoulder and sets the bottle back down by Rodney's hand. The bottle top hits the ground with a soft clink in the shadows behind them, and then there's silence.

For a second or two.

"It was in one of those videos I did when I was, when I thought I was going to-" Rodney flaps a hand to indicate... that thing. "I didn't remember later, that I'd said that. I didn't remember much at all, until I finally watched the recordings through last week. Watching those was... hard." Rodney puts the beer bottle to his lips, and swallows convulsively. "But that part just-"

"Rodney, you don't need to tell me this," John says uncomfortably.

"It explains so much," Rodney says, as if John hasn't said a word. "I scared her off. She liked me, before that. We really got on, you know? And then, later, after, when I asked her out, she kept making excuses for why she couldn't make it that time, or the next time, or the time after that. I got the message after a while. I'm not stupid, after all."

No, stupid is the last thing anyone would ever accuse Rodney McKay of being. Unbidden, an image of Rodney flashes past his mind's eye, Rodney as he was by the time Jeannie arrived to say goodbye. A memory of himself, telling Jeannie that it didn't matter what she said to her brother.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid_, John curses himself, and tries to think of something - anything- to say, or do.

But Rodney's still talking. "I thought she felt guilty for not finding a cure sooner, or that she'd seen me... like that and she just didn't want to know any more." Rodney's looking straight out ahead, not looking _at_ anything. He's moving the beer bottle from one hand to the other and back, but John doesn't think he's even aware that he's holding it. "But she didn't. I just- I blew it with her. And I didn't even remember that I'd done it."

"Rodney," John begins, not sure what to say next except that he has to bring this to an end somehow. Maybe a better friend would sit here and listen, and offer the right sort of supportive phrases whenever Rodney pauses for breath. But John really, really doesn't want to hear this, and wouldn't even if he knew what to say. Which he doesn't.

Rodney waves him silent. "I had lunch with Teyla the other day," he says, and John breathes a sigh of relief.

"Yeah?" John says cautiously after a moment, when Rodney doesn't say anything more.

"Jennifer was there. With Ronon."

"Really," John says, and this time he has to stop himself from saying anything else.

"They left after a while. Had to do... couple things, I guess."

"Maybe."

"They looked happy. Together."

John doesn't know what to say in response to that. 'Yes' seems inappropriate. And 'no'... 'no' would be a lie.

Rodney sets his beer bottle down between them and leans back on his hands to look up at the stars. "It was a weird experience watching those recordings. Unpleasant, for reasons that I hardly need to go into, but also oddly illuminating. It's strange how just taking a few steps back and really looking at yourself with..." - Rodney swallows hard - "with the surface stripped away can show you things that should have been blindingly obvious all along."

"I-" John clears his throat and tries again. "I wouldn't know about that." He's not thinking about the multitude of sins, of horrors, of _losses_, that that innocent-sounding phrase covers. He's not. He's really not.

"I don't like failing," Rodney says, his voice sounding small and naked and painfully honest. "Not that that's any sort of surprise, I know. But I don't like failing, and usually... usually I do when it comes to, um, being with someone."

John looks down at the bottle clasped in his hands and wishes the conversation would move back to the subject of beer. Or even Zelenka's love life again. Hell, Woolsey's love life. Anyone's, anything, except-

"Jennifer and I might have gotten it together. Maybe we would have worked, if things were different, if we'd been able to take things at the right pace. But it's not like we even got as far as a proper date, and besides, she's happy now, with Ronon." Rodney looks down at the waves far below. "You can't go back."

"No, you can't," John says.

"But you can't just stay where you are indefinitely, either." Rodney's chin comes up, mouth set in that oh-so-familiar determined expression. When Rodney looks like that, anything can happen, and usually does. "Sometimes you've just got to be brave enough to make your move."

John's still trying to decide what exactly that's supposed to mean when Rodney shifts beside him, moving closer for some reason and-

"Fuck!" Rodney exclaims just as John hears the sharp clang of glass hitting metal, and then there's beer everywhere.

"Crap!" John says, dropping his own beer and jumping to his feet in a doomed attempt to avoid the sudden flood and- Christ! He grabs for something to hold on to so that he doesn't lose his balance and fall. It's like all the beer he's consumed tonight was waiting for this moment to rush to his head. His fingers dig desperately into Rodney's shoulder just as Rodney reaches for him, arms wrapping tight around John's waist. They stand there like that, in the parody of a hug, for the space of a long, drawn-out breath. Then the moment passes and the world stops tilting, and together they stagger back from the edge.

John shudders and leans his forehead against Rodney's. "Too close for comfort," he mutters.

"And yet still not close enough," Rodney mutters back, breath warm and pleasantly beery against John's cheek. And then he adds, "Oh, well, it's not like I wasn't making a complete hash of it anyway, so here goes nothing." And he screws his eyes up tight as though this is an impending disaster he can't bear to witness, and kisses John. Just like that.

John just stands there, gobsmacked to begin with, feeling Rodney's lips moving across his own, warm and firm and determined. And completely, totally unexpected. Rodney opens one eye, draws back a little, just enough to be able to talk. "You haven't punched my lights out yet. That's a good sign. I think. It is, right?"

John stares at him, utterly bewildered. "What are you... Why?"

"Oh, come on, why do you think?" Rodney says, and something about the way he says it, the mix of incredulity and more than a touch of scorn at John's thickheadedness, the hundred percent Doctor Rodney McKay of it all, eases something still and silent and - until now - unyielding inside John. He loosens his grasp on Rodney's shoulders at last, slides his hands along fabric and then cool, bare skin, tracing a slow path up either side of Rodney's neck until at last his hands are left cupping Rodney's face between them. They stare at each other. Rodney's eyes are wide, everything out on his face to be seen. It's a balm to the sting of memory to see him like that, open and exposed but anything but blank and lost. John drinks in the sight, not letting himself think too much about what might be showing on his own face right now. "Why do you-" Rodney whispers, and that's as far as he gets because then John's kissing him, soft and careful, fingers still splayed across Rodney's cheeks, holding him there, anchoring them both in place so no one has a chance of falling, as Rodney kisses him back with equal care.

It looks like the falling's already happened.

Eventually John pulls back, moves his hands away from Rodney's face but only so they can drop down to rest on Rodney's shoulders. No way he's letting go now. "So what was all that stuff about Keller?" he asks quietly.

Rodney lets out a long breath. "How was I supposed to know how to explain something like that? I know about science, not relationships. Methodical is my default approach to the unknown, so that's how I dealt with it. The Jennifer thing happened first, so I had to work my way through it before I could get on to the other stuff." He waves his hands in a broad sweep encompassing them both to indicate what the 'other stuff' might be.

"You could have gone a little easier on all the details of the Jennifer thing," John feels compelled to point out. "Or maybe put a bit more emphasis on that other stuff."

"I told you," Rodney says, sounding more than a trifle indignant, despite the fact they're still standing so close and intimate that John can feel Rodney's warmth against him all the way down to where their feet are nestled together. "Some things are blindingly obvious once you finally notice them."

John's stomach clenches automatically at that, even though he tells it that's it's okay now. Probably. "You mean _I_ was blindingly obvious?" he says, thinking back on his every damning word and look and action. It must have been like putting it up in neon lights for anyone who cared to look.

"What? No. I never had any real idea what you- Well, I mean, obviously I knew you cared - a lot - but that doesn't mean you'd welcome-" Rodney throws up his hands. "I was talking about me, okay?"

"How were you obvious? You were pining after Keller!" The words come out angrier than he expected. Angry and hurt.

"Do you remember the last time we were out here on the pier?" Rodney asks, infuriating, answering a question with a question instead of providing the explanation that John seems unable to stop himself from needing.

"Of course." That night isn't one he's ever going to forget. For all sorts of reasons.

"I remember it, too. And by 'remember', I mean that I never forgot it. I never forgot _you_." Rodney looks away. "I was calling for you - well, yelling for you, to be completely accurate - in the later recordings." He swallows, and John's hands slip around to his back immediately, moving in soothing, gentle circles.

"I get it," he says, voice suddenly thick. "You don't have to-"

"You were the one thing... I couldn't hide it. I didn't know any more that I was supposed to. Like I said: blindingly obvious," Rodney finishes, on a not quite steady smile.

The next kiss is easier. They slip into it between one breath and the next, still a little tentative, still learning, until it hits John, with the sort of stunning burst of clarity that he usually associates with the moment right after escape from certain death, that this is Rodney. _Rodney_. That's the rough scrape of Rodney's stubble he can feel against his cheek, those are Rodney's hands clutching at his back and urging him closer, Rodney's mouth wet and warm, the perfect fit against his own. And Rodney's cock, pressing hard against his thigh. John moans into the kiss and grinds himself desperately against Rodney's hip as everything abruptly ratchets up about three notches in one go. He clutches at Rodney's groin, cupping him through the fabric and feeling Rodney's erection surge against his hand in instantaneous response. Not willing to break this kiss, he fumbles blindly with Rodney's fly till at last the button comes free, then his hand is sliding under the waistband of Rodney's boxers and down until it closes around the hard, heavy length of Rodney's cock. Rodney gasps something incoherent against John's lips as he thrusts into John's firm grip, holds there a moment, thrusts again, his pulse beating wildly but taking charge of the pace with a slow deliberation that leaves John achingly aware of the answering throb of his own dick trapped beneath the restrictive barrier of his clothing.

John tugs at his fly, jams his other hand down into his pants and reaches for his cock. He's already so far gone that the familiar feel of his own hand right where he needs it is enough to make him close his eyes and bite his lip in a stubborn attempt to hold back that little bit longer. It's probably just as well that they don't have any lube handy or oil, or even anything wet. All they have to work with is beer and just... no. Besides, they don't really need it. Like every other time that circumstances demand a result, they're finding a way, perfectly in tune with each other.

"Let me, let me," Rodney pants against his lips, and then Rodney's hands are there, big and strong and capable, pushing John's out of the way and taking them both in hand at once, moving in long, sure strokes, catching the rhythm that's pulsing through the two of them, urging them on, sliding their cocks together in a sweet pleasure that's still more tease than relief, they're both so greedy and desperate for everything they can get.

Rodney drags his mouth from John's, across his cheek and down below his ear. He's still muttering words that John can't quite make out, maybe endearments or filthy demands, maybe something else. Whatever he's saying, John's really starting to get the idea that Rodney's been waiting for this, longing for this, maybe even as much as John has.

John's head falls back and he bites back a groan at the feel of Rodney's mouth pressing hot, urgent kisses into his throat, Rodney's voice gasping the same word over and over against damp skin, as the rhythm below speeds up, speeds up everything, until Rodney goes still, his cock jerking and spending itself in hot pulses between them, coming as he breathes John's name. That's better than all the rest, better than anything, and John closes his eyes as the tension coils impossibly tight inside him, clenches in on itself for a timeless, endless instant, then breaks, hot and blinding white.

They stand there, afterwards, clutching each other, each relying on the other to hold them up until Rodney falls to his knees, dragging John down with him, and they topple sideways in a boneless heap on the pier. Chest still heaving, John ends up lying on his back with Rodney spread out half on top of him, and smiles up at the stars.

"You know, I was going to suggest that we try continuing this somewhere more comfortable," Rodney mumbles into John's chest once their breathing has slowed down to something like normal and John's starting to become aware of the sharp point of Rodney's chin digging into his sternum.

"No reason why we can't," John says, wriggling out from beneath Rodney and away, but still leaving barely more than an inch between them. "If you want, I mean."

Rodney snorts and rolls over on to his side. "Are you crazy? Of course I want. I just meant that I was going to suggest it before you got all hands-on and desperate."

John raises his head. "You kissed me first," he points out.

Rodney pushes himself up on one elbow. "And you were the one that-" He breaks off, frowning. "Why the hell are we arguing about this?"

John lets his head fall back against the pier. "No idea."

The stars are bright above them. There's no cloud tonight and now John's noticing a definite chill in the air. The wind picks up a bit, enough to roll an empty bottle past his feet, and a couple of stray thoughts from earlier that have been knocking around the edges of his mind suddenly meet up in the middle.

He sits up properly. "Was this intended to be a date?" he says, turning a narrow-eyed look on Rodney.

"You're just now figuring this out?" Rodney glances down pointedly at their stained and rumpled clothing.

John shakes his head. "The beer, I mean. You got the beer and nothing else for our date. Smooth, McKay, real smooth." He can't hold back a smirk.

"What? You think I was planning to get you drunk and then have my evil way with you?"

"Well, no." John has to admit that when Rodney puts it like that it sounds kind of silly.

"You like beer. That's why I got it." Rodney hauls himself up beside John, staying close enough that they're bumping shoulders.

John looks out across the water. The two visible moons are getting lower in the sky. They're almost in the same position as that first night when he stood out on the balcony with Carter, after he and Rodney between them had saved the city and everyone in it. Again.

"I'm not surprised you were brave," he says quietly, still watching the moons, and feels around between them to catch Rodney's hand in his.

Rodney squeezes his fingers tight and doesn't let go. "In the interests of full disclosure, I should probably mention that I had a little help."

"Yeah?" John says, surprised.

"Teyla might have encouraged me. A bit," Rodney says.

"Teyla, huh?" John raises his eyebrows, though maybe he should have seen that one coming.

"You remember I said I had lunch with Teyla the other day? After the others left, Teyla started talking about her and Kanaan. I was going to make an excuse to leave, I had to get back to the lab anyway."

John nods in real sympathy. He wouldn't have wanted to be trapped there like that, either.

"But she hinted that she wanted me to stay," Rodney continues.

"She hinted?" John bites down the beginning of a tiny smile.

"Well, if you really want to know, she grabbed my arm and pulled me back down into the chair."

John lets the smile happen. "She's always been good at getting her point across."

"You're telling me. I've still got the bruises!" Rodney pulls up his sleeve and runs a finger along the underside of his arm. It's possible there's a slight discolouration there. Maybe. One that might be barely visible in much better light than this.

"Show me later," John says, and somehow the words are more suggestive than they have any right to be. Rodney's staring a him again, in a way that makes John's breath catch. "Show me _soon_," he amends.

"Do you want to hear the rest of this story or not?" Rodney demands, but he's suddenly not meeting John's eyes any more.

"I'm not stopping you."

Rodney harrumphs. "To continue, Teyla told me a bunch of stuff about her and Kanaan, how they were friends for, like, twenty years, how he was always there when she needed a friend, even when she got involved with other men, providing a shoulder to cry on when it didn't work out. Stuff like that."

"Teyla actually said that? That she needed a shoulder to cry on?"

"Well, not in so many words, but I can read between the lines."

John sends him a look.

"I do have a sister," Rodney protests. "I know something about how women act in these situations."

"Yeah, you definitely have a sister," John says, smirking.

Rodney thwacks him gently on the shoulder. "The point is, Kanaan was secretly in love with her all that time, and she never knew until last year when she - how did she put it? - 'finally looked around and really saw him properly for the first time, standing there beside her, where he'd always been'."

"Are you sure Teyla would want you to be sharing all this?" John asks uncertainly, because he's not sure, at all.

"Her whole point for telling me was because she thought maybe I should look around and see who was standing beside me."

Rodney's words hang there between them, and now John's the one not meeting Rodney's eyes. He jumps to his feet. "We should clear up our stuff and get back," he says briskly, bending down to retrieve a beer bottle.

"Yeah, I really need a shower," Rodney agrees. After a moment he sighs, then gets up and tries to straighten his clothes in an apparent attempt not to look like he's just been doing exactly what he's just been doing.

Rodney grabs John's arm just before they make it back along the pier to the nearest transporter, pulling him around so they're face to face.

"About what I said back there, what Teyla said to me," Rodney says with quiet intensity. "I just- I don't want to fail this time. I want to get this right."

John manages a half-smile, thinking back on his own dismal record in that department. He tries to think of something to say, something appropriate and reassuring, but this is him and Rodney, and glib, ultimately meaningless words aren't part of this thing between them, never have been. Instead, he thinks about the sight they must present, coming home the worse for wear, smelling of beer and sex like a pair of teenagers creeping in after an illicit night out.

His smile turns real.

"Yeah, me too," he says, and moves back to stand by Rodney's side so he can put his arm around Rodney's shoulders.

He knows the moment that Rodney gets it, feels him stiffen as the realisation goes right through him. He turns to look at John, and slips an arm across John's shoulders in turn.

"So, we're good?" Rodney says, but he's smiling like he already knows the answer to that.

"Of course," John says, and somehow he's sure of that in a way he's never been sure of anything before.


End file.
